


Patience

by MercuryMcGee



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's genitalia are up to interpretation. go ham my friends, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is a Masochist and that's the Tea, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Praise Kink, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 06:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20861705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryMcGee/pseuds/MercuryMcGee
Summary: Aziraphale doesn't particularly appreciate being rushed along by a rather eager demon.





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> local gay offers you all his first-porn child
> 
> Dom!Aziraphale has awoken something primal within me so this is what i'm here for I guess
> 
> i'm sustained by comments so please do leave one of you enjoyed (or if you didn't! i'm not picky <3)

Go-, Sata-, Somebody, he was bored. 

Technically, yes, he could miracle himself free from the restraints that kept him bound face down to the obnoxious floral bedspread - but that would disappoint his angel, and if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was seeing Aziraphale upset.

So there he stayed, cursing his luck.

He’d been here for upwards of two hours now, if he had to guess. Aziraphale had been in a rather tetchy mood when Crowley finally made his way downstairs at some point during the early afternoon – they’d exchanged the basic pleasantries and Crowley had even offered to make his angel a cup of cocoa instead of miracling it into existence!

Instead of the appreciation he’d expected, he’d been herded upstairs – rather aggressively pushed back onto the bed and kissed within an inch of his life. All-in-all, it was a rather surprising turn of events – not unpleasant, just surprising.

Naturally, being a horny bastard, he’d tried to escalate things – which was his first mistake. Aziraphale, like with all things in his life, preferred to take his time Crowley. And so, the demon, with a snap of Aziraphale’s fingers, ended up bound to the bed with luxuriously soft silk ties that had the misfortune of being patterned with tartan.  
His second mistake was complaining about those particular circumstances – the angel had gotten huffy, as he always does when he’s rushed, but instead of doing something about it, bless him, he had swiftly rid Crowley of his clothes with the aid of a miracle, pressed a chaste kiss between tense shoulder blades and left, saying something about “having to attend to the shop”.

Attend to the shop his arse. Both parties knew that it was quite clearly a lie – Aziraphale hadn’t purposefully sold a book in at least the past decade.

Thoroughly caught up in his brooding at this point, Crowley failed to notice the familiar creaking of the stairs as the angel made his way to the flat above his shop, humming contentedly to himself.

The sound of the bedroom door creaking and the pleased-sounding intake of breath does alert Crowley to the angel’s presence though. He stretches languidly, turning to face the angel as best as he could. “Finally get bored of not selling books, did you, Angel?” he questions, careful not to let his agitation bleed into his voice.

“I did, in fact. But if that’s the way you’re going to behave, then I could always find a manuscript that needs restoring…” Aziraphale trails off, looking haughtily down at his perfectly manicured nails.

“Ngk, shit, no, don’t go, please? ‘M sorry.” He pleads, though his pride prevented him from apologising in any coherent sense – so it ended up more of a mumbled groan.

“What was that, dear?” Aziraphale’s voice was practically dripping with smugness as he sat down on the bed beside the restrained demon, idly drawing patterns on Crowley’s back with a single fingertip.

“I ssssaid I’m ssssorry, fuck!” he hissed, his forked tongue making an appearance as he glowered at the angel. 

“Well, you’ll forgive me for saying this, but you don’t sound at all sorry, my dear.” As he says this, the soothing sensation of patterns being traced across Crowley’s back is replaced by nails being roughly drawn from his mid-back up to his shoulders, leaving an impressive set of scratch marks running across the expanse of lithe muscle. Moaning brokenly at the sensation, Crowley grinds his hips into the bed as his breaths begin to quicken.

His movements cease when a hand finds purchase in his hair, pulling him roughly backwards so that his eyes are forced to meet the stern gaze of his angel.

“Honestly, dear.” He whispers, gently scolding. “First, you’re impatient with me and then have the audacity to lie? You must know that I don’t tolerate this kind of behaviour. ” He croons, punctuating his sentence with another rough tug on Crowley’s hair.

“This kind of behaviour practically begs for punishment, don’t you think?” his tone is sickly sweet as he whispers this question into the the demon’s ear. At the lack of response, the angel none-too-delicately nips at Crowley’s ear. “Answer.”

“Yesssss” comes the hissed reply.

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Aziraphale.” The demon moans, giving Aziraphale his best approximation of puppy-dog eyes.

“Good boy” Aziraphale croons, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as Crowley writhes at the praise – he’d always had a weakness for it, after-all. “Now, about your punishment, dear boy.”

He delicately draws a hand down Crowley’s back, coming to rest on his buttocks. At Crowley’s hitch of breath, a satisfied smirk crosses Aziraphale’s face. He miracles Crowley free from his bonds before sitting back and gesturing to his lap. “Over my knee, darling. I’ll see to you in just a moment.” 

Aziraphale barely suppresses a giggle as Crowley all but scrambles to splay himself across Aziraphale’s lap, his limbs moving awkwardly as the blood-flow slowly returns to them.

He spreads himself across the angel’s lap then, groaning as his hands are pushed to rest behind his back, while Aziraphale’s other hand finds purchase in his hair once more. 

“Count for me, alright love? You know what to say to get me to stop.”

“Yeah, ‘Garden’.” Crowley confirms.

“Good boy.” Aziraphale whispers, raising his hand and bringing it down against Crowley’s left cheek, prompting a yelp from the demon.  
“One”

Again, the angel raises his hand and the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes across the room – once, twice – Aziraphale increasing the strength of his strikes each time. 

“Two. Th-three, shit.”

Aziraphale hums, allowing the demon a brief reprieve. “You’re doing so well for me, love.” He praises, gently tracing his hand across a swiftly reddening cheek. “Ready?” At Crowley’s vigorous nod, praise begins to fall unbidden from Aziraphale’s mouth as he brings his hand down on Crowley’s ass again and again. “Beautiful.” Smack. “Gorgeous.” Smack. “So kind and good. Smack. “So perfectly well-behaved.” 

By this point, Crowley was having a hard time remembering what order the numbers go in – not to mention reciting them, for that matter. “F-four. Five, fuck!” He moans loudly, grinding his hips down into Aziraphale’s lap. “Ssssix! Fuck, ‘ziraphale.” He hisses, moving his hand from where it was resting behind his back towards his leaking cock, intent on giving it the attention he felt he deserved.

Aziraphale slows his assault, tutting as he grabs hold of Crowley’s wandering hand and places it back where it belongs. “Patience is a virtue, dear.” He mutters distractedly, caught up in admiring his handiwork. 

“’M a demon. Don’t have virtues.” Comes the reply, still managing to be biting despite how wrecked Crowley sounds.

“Well. I’m sure we can fix that.” Aziraphale replies, moving to caress the demon’s right cheek. “Start again, alright?” he requests, tapping lightly once, before swiftly bringing his hand down to meet supple flesh once more.

“One!” the demon yelps at the sudden contact. 

Not letting up, the angel delivers four smacks in quick succession. Crowley, to his merit, attempts to keep count, however anything after the word ‘two’ came out as little more than a broken sob. His hips feverishly bucking into Aziraphale’s lap, chasing his orgasm as blows continued to rain down upon his sensitive behind. The heat pooling in his stomach began to build to a crescendo before he finds himself spilling, untouched, into the angel’s lap with a high-pitched whine.

“There you are.” Aziraphale comforts, gently running a hand through Crowley’s hair. Gingerly, then, he gathers the demon hefting him from his lap and placing him softly down to lounge against the ample number of pillows decorating the bed.  
“Alright, love?” the angel questions, hovering over him, checking for injuries with soft touches.

He receives nods in response, the demon peering owlishly at the angel through half-lidded eyes as he fought a losing battle against his exhaustion.

Aziraphale smiles lovingly at him, wiping the sweat and tears from Crowley’s face and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. “You rest up, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

It is almost certain that Crowley never heard him though, since he was out like a light as soon as the angel first caressed his face.


End file.
